The Majestic
by lash
Summary: A Serpentine Prophet is a gift of darkest magic. For every Prophet, there is a Charmer to whom he is bound. Being a Charmer is a rare and unusual gift Salazar Slytherin was a Charmer So is Voldemort... Updated! HPDM,postOotP
1. Glass

The Majestic

Laurence Ashton

Chapter One:

_Glass_

Harry watched, leaning back casually on a beanbag chair, as the new Divinations professor paced in front of the class. The professor, a short, curvy woman with color-treated black hair and glassy blue eyes, replaced Professor Trelawney, who had, the year prior, made a startling prophecy that locked her in a vegetative trance. Currently, Professor Trelawney resided at St. Mungo's hospital in London on a ward for irreparable brain traumas. So far, the new woman, Professor Stacy Augura, seemed less batty and fraudulent than Trelawney, who'd only had a handful of true prophecies anyway.

"This year," said Professor Augura, giving everyone a brilliant smile, "our lessons will focus on Prophecy. The first half of the year we will spend analyzing prophecies. For the second half, we will each hone our focuses, and perhaps we will come up with prophecies of our own." She smiled at Ron and Harry, where they sat in the back, briefly. "Don't worry. Prophesying is a difficult skill that requires taxing attention to detail and deftness when it comes to manipulating magical weaves. I don't expect each of you to succeed in this area, and your grades won't suffer for it."

"That's different," whispered Ron in Harry's ear. Harry nodded his agreement. A lot had changed from Trelawney's reign of boredom. Gone were the annoying doilies and uncomfortably wooden chairs. The fire that Trelawney continually blared was sealed off unless specifically required (or wanted, for winter weather), and the windows had been thrown open to allow in light and fresh air. Incense no longer clouded the room with heavy, stinking smoke. And… unfortunately, Slytherins and Gryffindors took Divinations together.

In place of Trelawney's clashing chaos, everything new was simple, plain, and efficient. Some things were even attractive in their simplicity. And Professor Augura explained that too much color, shape, or discomfort would lessen their focus, a pivotal part of divining.

"First we'll start with Serpentine Prophets," Augura told the class. "These are often very complicated, but I think you can handle them. They should be fun to decipher as well — I know I loved working with them when I went through my training — _and_ you just might learn something! What do you say? If we're having too much trouble off the bat, we can shelve them and come back to them later in the term." Harry could definitely say that the new professor was a perky one. "Alright, then, I'm going to assign Gryffindor-Slytherin divining partnerships, and you'll work together in these groups of four until the end of the year, okay? Now, let's break into pairs…."

Harry listened attentively for his name, silently praying that he wouldn't get stuck with Malfoy for a year. _Teddy Nott's not so bad,_ he thought desperately. _He doesn't even hang about with Malfoy and his gang, so…._

"Messrs. Malfoy, Potter, Weasley, and Zabini," said Augura cheerfully. "You'll take the last table, right here!" Each of the four boys groaned, exchanging hateful glances as they reluctantly moved to sit at the table near the front, right beside the window. "Now, now," Augura said, mildly scolding them. "You might find that you like each other. Wouldn't that be spiffy?"

"Not bloody likely," Malfoy muttered angrily. "Bloody stupid Dumbledore. I didn't even sign up for this useless class."

"But I thought you said—"

"Shut up, Blaise!" Malfoy hissed, punching the other boy in the arm. Blaise sneered, rubbing the sore spot, but didn't retaliate since the professor called attention. Ron snickered, and Harry tried his best to ignore all of them.

"The first prophecy we'll be looking at is _God of Glass_." She walked around the room delivering a single parchment to each table. "I translated this from the original Elvish when I was in training with Madame Sophie Bonifay. It should be a rather simple and familiar one to get the ball rolling, so to speak."

Harry picked up the paper from the table and studied it. Malfoy and Blaise came around to Harry and Ron's side of the table to look over his shoulder at it. Harry could feel Malfoy's body heat pressing into him, searing. It felt strange, as Harry always thought of Malfoy as ice, cold and burning at once, surrounded by a sharp chill. He did not like this reminder that the whiny prat was actually human, or was as human as the hot blood coursing through him.

_When all fall,_

_when all shatter,_

_when light consumes,_

_the God of Glass is of stone. _

_Mountain may crack,_

_foundations may clatter,_

_flashes will blind, _

_but the God of Glass is of stone._

_Death devours and_

_consumes that which matters_

_and all will succumb to the staff,_

_but the God of Glass will live on._

When each person in the room had looked up at her again, Professor Augura said, "What does it sound like the Serpentine Prophet is prophesying?"

Malfoy sneered and called out, "It sounds like more Potter-is-a-hero bullshit to me, professor." The professor looked at him with both eyebrows raised, and he leaned back in his seat to sulk. "It's too familiar and too easy. Perhaps you mistook us for third years?"

Some of the Slytherins snorted in amusement, but the professor ignored them all, and smiled at Malfoy with her ever present, annoying mirth. "Ah! I see why the Headmaster reassigned you to my class. You've got a sharp mind for prophecies, Mr. Malfoy. Would you care to give us an analysis?"

"Not really."

"Mr. Malfoy, your gift is a—"

"It's not a bloody gift!" he shouted. "It was an _accident_ — a _freak accident_, a fluke even, but not a gift!" Malfoy snatched the parchment out of Harry's hand and plopped in his seat, pouting. "Obviously the Prophet uses irony in called the Boy-Who-Lived the 'God of Glass,' although _I_ think the irony is thicker, because of Potter's delicate sensibilities and his rather bloated, fragile ego—"

"Without the running commentary!" snapped Harry angrily. Professor Augura nodded her alliance with Harry on the issue and Malfoy sulked some more.

"Fine then, I'll be brutally honest, and nothing more," he said coldly. "The first line references, of course, Voldemort's—" shocked gasps filled the room, and Malfoy smirked maliciously, "_Voldemort's_ initial reign of terror. At this time, the world fell into the machinations of the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord… _Voldemort_," again the surprised murmuring, "had managed to access the Ancient vein and shatter it, giving him a power unmatched and the ability to manipulate some of the lesser abilities of the Fair. During these dark times, Avada Kedrava," people were turning red in the face by now, "the Killing Curse, was used a record-breaking 500 plus times. Magic, unfortunately, was preparing for ickle Potter, here, to be born and be to stupid to realize he was supposed to die."

"WHY YOU LITTLE—" Ron began, spluttering, as he reached across the table to Malfoy. Harry grabbed his harm and hauled him back into his seat, and Ron turned to splutter at him instead.

"Mr. Malfoy, please refrain from including personal opinions in your _scientific_ analysis."

"With all due respect, Professor," said Malfoy, clearly implying that he gave none, "I am quite familiar with the scientific process and to the circumstances to which it can be applied, even loosely. Divination _doesn't_ stand among them, sorry." Professor Augura smiled at him again, so damn merry that it was unnerving, and Malfoy scowled and turned back to the parchment. "The second verse references the deterioration of Ministry's abilities to resist the Voldemort threat, and I am willing to assume that you are all not so stupid as to warrant actually _explaining _how." Professor Augura smirked at him, and a few of the Slytherins chuckled. "Obviously, that last line talks about the Potters' deaths and the Dark Lord's hands and Potter's miraculous display of stupidity which many morons have taken as a sign of the Dark Lord's defeat."

Professor Augura looked rather pleased. "Ten points to Slytherin, then," she said. Then she addressed the whole class. "For homework, you'll write a formal analysis of the prophecy, as Mr. Malfoy displayed. Then, during our next class, we'll start on a Hogwarts specific prophecy. I think you'll find it very interesting." She glanced at her wristwatch. "Well, we've only got a few moments left, so I think I'll let you all out for lunch."

Malfoy grabbed his bag up viciously and pushed Neville out of his way as he stormed from the room. Pansy Parkinson went darting after him, loudly demanding to know what was wrong, and Blaise Zabini followed after at a slower pace, smirking in amusement to himself.

"That prat!" Ron fumed, as he and Harry packed their bags and started down to lunch. "Are you all right, mate? I mean, Malfoy said some pretty nasty things, back there and—"

"They were just words, Ron," said Harry. "Draco…. Malfoy doesn't really bother me anymore, to tell you the truth."

Ron looked at Harry as if he'd grown a second head and sprouted extra limbs. Harry tried not to roll his eyes, and wished that Ron would grow up and get over his petty rivalry with Malfoy. They had more important things to worry about.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat together at the head of the Gryffindor table for lunch. Ron told Hermione about their first Divinations lesson of the year and how Professor Augura seemed to be leaps and bounds better than Professor Trelawney. _So far_, anyway. Hermione seemed to agree with him on the basis that it would take a lot for a person to be a bigger fraud than Professor Trelawney.

"Lockheart notwithstanding, eh?" Harry said in her ear, and she blushed to the roots of her hair and smacked Harry's arm lightly.

"So you had a pretty good class then, aside from being partnered with Malfoy and Zabini all year?"

"Oh, it was all right," Harry said before Ron could launch into another rant about Draco Malfoy and Malfoy's editorialized analysis of the Serpentine Prophecy. "I'm just interested to see how much she knows and if she's any good at it. She's damn jolly."

"Jolly enough to knock that prat Malfoy off balance," Ron snorted. Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"Nothing really," Harry explained. "See, Dumbledore apparently transferred Malfoy to Divinations because he has a knack for it, and Malfoy gave a little running commentary about a Serpentine Prophecy about me."

"About _you_?"

Harry sniffed. "Believe me. It's not anything we didn't know already." Hermione nodded and turned back to her lunch. "So, how was Advanced Transfiguration? Who's in the class with you?"

"Oh, er, it was all right," said Hermione. "We learned a spell that could help us determine our Animagus forms. I'll be a unicorn, apparently, or a white mare, to Muggle eyes." She paused and smiled at Harry supportively. "We're a small group, really."

"I heard Malfoy got in," said Ron angrily. "Is that true?"

Hermione glared at Ron as Harry spluttered in surprise. "Malfoy beat _me_ into Advanced Transfiguration?" Hermione winced when she heard the tone of Harry's voice, and Harry shook his head vigorously. "Bloody hell." _What will my father think of me?_ he thought. _The son of Prongs can't even learn to become an Animagus._

"That spot is still open, Harry," Hermione reminded him kindly. "And you'll find out any day now that you've got in."

"Yeah, Harry!" Ron piped in. "There's no one else the Hat could pick, eh? It's been in all our heads, so it knows that you're a top candidate." Hermione stood on Ron's foot under the table at the thoughtless remark, and Harry smiled back at him, and tried to ignore the nagging feeling at the back of his mind.

"Right," he said. Hermione gave him a worried glance as they fell into silence to finish their meals.

Towards the end of lunch, a flood of owls swooped into the Great Hall. Two owls came to Harry, one a strange, unfamiliar bird, and the other a school owl. Harry opened the letter that came with the unfamiliar bird first. It was from Remus, who had taken to writing Harry a letter every two or three weeks. Since Sirius's death in the Department of Mysteries, Harry and Remus had started to cling to one another, and a great friendship forged between them.

_Hello Harry,_

_How are you doing? I hope your summer with the Dursleys was not too taxing. I do wish I could have collected you for a holiday at my new home. I've started that job I've told you about with the International Ministry of Magic. They've got me working to establish the new school of magic in Venice. It should be finished by the end of the year, and I'll have a teaching position for the next. Maybe you could come visit me when you leave school. Or maybe you would consider applying for the institute._

_Speaking of schooling, how do you like your new professor, Stacy Augura? She's very good at what she does, Harry. She worked for an elite order since finishing off her training as a diviner, and signed up with the IMM when it was formed last year. When Dumbledore requested a new professor, I talked her into volunteering for the job. We went to school together, did you know? She's a year older than your parents and me, but I know that she and Sirius had a relationship at one point. She'll be willing to tell you a bit about your parents, if you want. She was friends with Lily long before Lily could stand any one of the Marauders._

_Try not to get into too much trouble, Harry. I know how it follows you around, but I want you to be extra careful this year. As you grow older and more powerful, the threat against you increases. Dumbledore has gotten more and more secretive as the war starts up again in earnest, and he is rather taken with one of your classmates, Draco Malfoy, although he hasn't told anyone allied with him why. He's had Tonks and Moody tagging him since that incident with Trelawney last year, so I want to caution you to be careful around him. Merlin knows Dumbledore won't warn you what's going on before it's too late. Let Professor Snape know if you see or hear anything unusual. He'll get word back to me in a safe and secure way. I fear I've written too much in this letter, and won't be doing this often. _

_When in doubt, write it out. _

_Much love,_

_Remus_

_PS give Ron and Hermione my best. _

"What on earth does that mean?" Harry asked himself, folding the letter and pocketing it. "_When in doubt, write it out?_"

"Maybe he just wants you to get a letter to him," Ron suggested.

"I don't think so," said Hermione, but she didn't offer any suggestions.

Just as Harry was reaching for his next letter, an excited outburst came from the Slytherin table. Harry looked over curiously as Blaise Zabini accepted loud congratulations on getting into McGonagall's new Advanced Transfigurations class. Harry grimaced and turned away as Blaise put his hand on Malfoy's shoulder and started to ramble excitedly.

"Harry," Hermione began in a soft, soothing voice.

Harry shrugged at her and tore into the envelope. A letter fell out and Harry read it briefly, then twice more. He glanced at the Head Table, where both Professors McGonagall and Snape looked rather pleased with themselves that their respective students were the others to qualify for the course. Harry grinned at McGonagall and McGonagall smiled at him, her eyes twinkling over her glasses.

"Got in," Harry said, folding the letter and pocketing it. "Merlin, for a second I thought…." Harry trailed off and glanced over at the Slytherin table. Blaise Zabini leaned eagerly against Malfoy's side as Malfoy tore into a package. Malfoy hesitated, his eyes growing comically wide, then reached into the container and pulled out a strange, massive serpent. In place of eyes, it had glittering emeralds stuck in sockets, and rubies and emeralds were embedded deep into the flesh of its back. A gleaming silver spiral twisted between the gems and curled around its tail. Harry stared at it, mesmerized.

Then Malfoy grinned and lifted the snake's head to look it directly in the eyes. Malfoy's eyes flashed and he smiled brilliantly as the forked tongue flicked out at his face. Harry had never seen Malfoy look so natural, before, as when he was this unguarded and truly smiling.

"Harry!" Ron said, practically screaming in Harry's ear.

Harry turned to him, irritated with the interruption. "What?"

"I was just saying congratulations, mate," Ron said. "You know, you should have more faith in yourself. I can't believe you really thought the Hat would choose some slimy Slytherin over you! Bah!"

"Er, thanks," said Harry. He looked over at the Slytherins again, in time to see Zabini tuck and errant strand of hair behind Malfoy's ear. It was an unnerving, intimate gesture that made Harry flush and avert his eyes. When he looked up again, Pansy was glaring at them as Zabini dug through Malfoy's package and pulled out a squirming white mouse. The serpent snapped it from Zabini's hands, venomous fangs sinking into the back before it swallowed the thing whole. Malfoy and Zabini grinned.

"Ooh, he's so pretty!" said Pansy loudly. "Feed him some more!"

"That's barbaric!" huffed Hermione to herself. Neither Malfoy nor Zabini listened to Pansy anyway, and they gathered up their belongings and left the Great Hall, Pansy glaring after them.

"Snake's gotta eat," Ron said around a mouthful of food.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, I have been unsatisfied with The Majestic for a _long_ time now. I've been thinking about it, and thinking about it, and cringing with distaste. My writing style has changed a lot (and improved, I think) since originally posting this, and the reason why I stopped posting was because I no longer liked the story. Recently, I've come back to it (I said I would eventually) and started to re-write it. There are a few major changes in the story, now.

First, I've altered a bit of the ships. The story is now ultimately HP/DM slash. This started out as a friendship!fic, but... well, I've found a way to work the plot for a better story. Well, plot takes the pot with me, every time.

Second, I've made The Majestic HP:OotP compatible. At first I couldn't see a way to work the plotline around the events of OotP, so I shoved it away for a long time, but now I have an idea. This means that the subplots involving Sirius have been swiped or changed because Sirius is well and truly gone. Also, this means that Blaise Zabini is a boy now. However, the original ship will remain DM/BZ. Also, since this is OotP compatible, The Majestic is no longer a fifth-year fic. That's a minor point in my mind, but just to clarify, Harry and co. are in their seventh year.

Third, whatever new canon we get in HP:HBP will be ignored. So, The Majestic is definitely AU. Actually, that's not changed since the original.

Lastly, if I have any readers for this story left (I'll be surprised, if so) you may call me a liar. I am a liar, apparently, because I _did_ say that this would not be made slash _or_ compatible with OotP when I said I'd re-write it. Two out of three times, I was not telling the truth. Sorry if this upsets or annoys any one, but, as I said before, plot takes the pot.


	2. Claimed

AN: Updated as of 09.20.2005. (Been awhile, eh?) Still unbeta'd.

* * *

The Majestic

Laurence Ashton

Chapter Two:

_Claimed

* * *

_

That afternoon, Harry and Hermione split with Ron to go to Double Potions with the Slytherins. They made it some minutes before the class began and dumped their school things on their workbench. A gang of Gryffindors and Slytherins gathered around Malfoy's workbench on the other side of the room, loudly chattering and admiring the serpent. As usual, when he became the center of attention, Malfoy tried to milk it for all he was worth.

"His name is Midas," Malfoy said. "And he's very poisonous, so be careful, because I don't care enough about any of you to sacrifice him for the antivenom.

Upon hearing that, some of the students hedged away nervously. Among them was Neville Longbottom, who came to stand beside Harry and Hermione with a dreamy look on his face.

"Isn't he pretty?" Neville said, sighing. Harry glanced over and scrutinized Malfoy. He supposed that he had an attractive face, if a little pointy. Scrunching his nose, he glanced back at Neville. "I touched him. When Malfoy wasn't looking, of course! If Malfoy had caught me doing that he would have chopped off my hand."

At that moment, Snape barged into the room, robes flapping behind him, and scowled at the bottleneck by Malfoy's desk. "To your seats!" he barked and slammed into the storeroom. Everyone scrambled, grabbing up bags and books and cauldrons, and scurried back to their own benches to set up for the afternoon's class. Shuffling feet and papers sounded throughout the room. Snape sneered at them as he came back into the room, clutching a vial of volatile purple potion.

Snape stopped at Malfoy's desk, letting his fingers trace over the silky scales on Midas's back. Midas raised his head and flicked his tongue, eyes flashing silver.

_Pretty, pretty are your wiles, curdling blood behind your smiles. You may speak with flair and style, yet to me you are but vile_, Midas sang in a lisping, rasping voice. Harry glanced at Midas with wide eyes, and Snape, as if sensing the meaning behind Midas's hissing, snatched his hand away and took a step back.

"Mr. Malfoy, the Headmaster would like a word with you. He is in his office now. Take your books; you won't be returning. Serpents are not on the list of approved familiars." Then Snape sneered. "I am certain that Mr. Zabini will be most eager to fill you in on what you've missed."

As Malfoy shoved his supplies back in his satchel, and Snape turned to write on the chalkboard, Hermione leaned closer. "What did Midas say?" she whispered in his ear. Harry scribbled the phrase onto a spare piece of parchment and handed it over. Hermione read it over for a few moment, then carefully folded it and stashed it in her pocket, and curious look in her eyes as she gazed at Snape's back.

She did not speak with him again throughout the rest of the lesson, but for whispered instructions on the brew. Harry hadn't expected much of a discussion right there in Snape's class, but the curious and calculating look in her eyes irritated him. He wanted to know what she was thinking.

Following Potions, Harry scribbled his assignments on a spare piece of parchment as he jostled Hermione from the room. She stumbled into the hall, casting foul looks over her shoulder as she tried organizing her books.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"_What_ what?" replied Hermione. She was being purposefully daft, the wretch.

Sighing in irritation, Harry scowled. "What do you think Midas meant?"

"Oh, I don't know. It was odd, is all. He could have meant anything."

"But you don't think so."

"Contrary to what you and Ron seem to think, I don't know everything! Besides, you're the one who speaks Parseltongue. Why don't _you_ ask what he meant? Charmed familiars are accommodating, if you're nice to them."

"Yeah, but I need _Malfoy_, to be the accommodating one."

"Perhaps you ought to be nicer to Malfoy, then. You know, lead by example."

"You want me to chummy up to Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed, faltering mid-step. Hermione gave him a wry smile.

"No. I want you to hurry up so we're not late for Charms."

"But—"

"No buts, Harry. Get a little creative. He's a Slytherin, isn't he…? Make him an offer he can't refuse."

"What's that: abject humiliation, voluntarily enslaving myself to his whims, or death? I particularly like the second option. I see… collars in my future. Big brass ones."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I said be creative, not stupid." Harry looked at her in expectation, waiting for the little nudge in the right direction. "You're a Parselmouth, Malfoy's not, Midas is a snake…." Slowly, Harry's scowl morphed into a grin. "Come on, slave-boy, or do I have to snap a lead to your big, brass collar?"

"That's not funny, Hermione!"

Hermione laughed the rest of the way to Charms.

* * *

Harry spent the free period between end of classes and dinner in the library, struggling with tricky potions questions and the Divination analysis. Malfoy had made deciphering the prophecy seem so easy in class, but when it came down to breaking the Prophet's code, Harry could find bunches of other reasons why the prophecy could be about anything other than the fateful Halloween night when he became the Boy-Who-Lived. 

Even asking Hermione's opinion did him no good. She wrestled with finding definitive clues for two hours before unhelpfully suggesting that he go find Malfoy and beg off a tutoring session.

_As if_, Harry thought, scribbling a reiteration of Malfoy's earlier op-ed analysis. Harry could practically hear Malfoy's exaggerated laughter and lazy drawl, "What, Potter? Need to hear again what a special ittle boy you are?"

With the Divination assignment out of the way, Harry worked on characteristic charts for Herbology until his stomach loudly announced its displeasure with being empty. He dropped his books off in the common room, the headed down to dinner.

Ron was already there and eating, sitting with Neville and Lavender Brown. They were arguing good-naturedly about a lesson in their mutual medi-magic class. As Harry sat down and began to load his plate with food, Lavender turned to him, a look of red-cheeked exasperation on her face, and demanded to know what he thought.

"What do I think about what?"

"We were talking about the Unconscionables. These two are saying that—"

"Hello," interrupted Hermione as she darted over and sat down. "I ran into Professor McGonagall on my way over. She asked me to catch up on the spells so that you can start a study of your Animagus form."

"Oh, good. Do you want to practice after dinner today?"

"That's fine. We learned quite a few spells. It's a little more complicated than it sounds."

In part from hunger, and in part of eagerness, Harry wolfed down two servings of dinner and one of dessert. Hermione ate less, so they were evenly paced and ready to go in forty minutes.

"Do you mind if I stop off to write a letter to Remus first?"

"No," replied Hermione. "I could do to write a letter myself. My mum's probably worried because I haven't written since I've been back to school."

They detoured to the owlery in silence, composing their letters mentally. Voices drifted into the hall from the owlery, and Harry recognized Malfoy's drawling tone.

"…so I'll just tell him that I can't."

"Oh, that'll go over well, Draco," came Zabini's deep, husky voice as something hissed in the background – Midas, probably. "I can imagine the—"

"Potter! Quit sneaking around out there!"

Grimacing, Harry stomped into the owlery and sneered. "I wasn't sneaking anywhere, for your information. You don't own the owlery, Malfoy. I'd suggest that you don't hold private conversations here."

"I wasn't—"

"Malfoy, Harry and I were talking about Midas today, and we wanted to ask you a question."

"Hermione!" complained Harry as Malfoy narrowed his eyes, reaching up to touch Midas's back, as if reassuring himself that Midas still lay around his neck.

"Why?" said Malfoy, jutting his chin.

"He is curious, you must admit," said Hermione, laughing amiably. Harry looked at her askance.

"And what's it to you, I wonder?" snapped Zabini. He grabbed hold of Malfoy's arm. "Come on, Draco, we've got better things to do than stand around chatting with these losers."

"Please, I only want a moment. He's not like any other snake I've ever seen, and—"

Hermione reached to touch Midas, who hissed and reared. Malfoy grabbed her wrist and sneered.

_Dark is the night; dark is the drear. Dark is your path; dark is the year_.

"Not unless you want to _die_, Mudblood."

Zabini laughed. "Maybe so. Let her have a go, Draco!"

Hermione wrenched her hand back and moved closer to Harry. "Oh, he's one of _those_ sort, is he?" Malfoy grinned. "I'm surprised the Headmaster let you keep him."

"As if he had a choice!"

"Shut up, Zabini!" Malfoy snapped. He brushed by Harry and Hermione. Midas turned his head and looked Harry in the eye. His eyes flashed silver.

_Harry Potter_…

"_Yes_?" Harry hissed. He raised a hand and set it on Midas's head. Malfoy stiffened. "_Midas_."

_I have seen into your mind, friend. We are kindred, so I warn you – beware the claimed_.

"_What do you mean_?"

Malfoy grabbed Harry's hand in a bruising grip and pushed it away, face scrunched in disgust.

"Don't talk to my snake."

"He talked to me, if you didn't notice."

"He won't do it again, don't worry." As Malfoy said this, Midas slunk away and burrowed down Malfoy's sleeve as if chastised.

"Aren't you the least bit curious about what he has to say? I can tell you—"

"I don't need _you_ to tell me what's in my own head!" spat Malfoy. Harry raised both eyebrows in challenge.

"Can we go, now?" Zabini whined. Nodding absently, Malfoy gave his assent. Smiling with uncalled-for smugness, Zabini threw an arm around Malfoy's shoulder, caressing Midas's tail where it curled around Malfoy's neck, and ushered Malfoy away. Harry gawked as they left and Zabini tossed a victorious smirk Harry's way. Soon, their footsteps faded away.

"What did Midas have to say?" asked Hermione.

Taking a seat at a writing desk, Harry shrugged awkwardly. "I don't know," he told her. Somehow, Midas's words felt as if they had been spoken in confidence – meant for Harry's ears only.

* * *

Harry stood outside as the sun set, sending streams of pink and purple jetting across the sky. Fluffy white clouds dimmed as the darkness settled in, turning drab gray. Dark canopies swayed like brush tips against the canvas of the heavens. Harry stood on a hill, barefoot, sharp, ribbed blades of grass poking his soles. He stared intently at the sky, watching as the light faded and burning dots began to emerge. 

A hand clamped on his shoulder and he stiffened, lowering his head but not turning to see who had joined him. He _knew_, without a doubt, who had snuck up on him as he immersed his thoughts in the sights around him. Everyone else avoided him.

"What do you see?" whispered a low, hissing voice.

"Stars," he replied, ducking his head and letting his eyes flutter closed.

"It is bright yet."

He glanced through his eyelashes at his horizon. The sun hadn't fully disappeared from his line of sight, the darkness of the sky was fuzzy, muted.

"I know."

"What more do you see?"

"I… I can't." The hand on his shoulder clenched, and a stream of magic flowed from the fingertips, into him. It burned, seared, kindled a fire in his thoughts that blinded him. Crying out, he sunk, falling forward to his knees, hoping to escape the touch, but the hand followed him down and tightened. "_Please_, don't…!" The magic flared, a light flickering behind his eyes that caused an ache in his temples. "_Please_…."

"What do you see?" the man asked, his voice a low purr, seducing him into a sense of security. "Tell me what you see and the pain will end."

"I can't… I see… _Please_," he begged, curling his fingers into the earth for purchase.

"Tell me what you see, Draco. If you tell me, I will make the pain go away."

"I don't know…. _Please_, I don't know. _Please, make it stop. Make it stop. I'll do anything if you just_—"

Suddenly the pain receded and the hand shifted from his shoulder to card through his hair. He collapsed fully onto the ground, quivering as residual tremors coursed through him. Every nerve in his body felt aflame with hurt, and he sobbed, unable to keep in his cries. The fingers in his hair stimulated more agony than comfort.

"You must try harder."

"Yes! I promise… I will try harder, will focus…."

"Do not disappoint me, Draco."

Shuddering, he breathed out his answer, "No, my lord. I will not disappoint you again."

* * *

Harry woke suddenly, gasping for breath. He could feel shockwaves of pain fading into a dull ache. Something strange had happened in his dream – was it even a dream? He saw himself as Malfoy, saw and felt the world as Malfoy did. It was so detailed, almost painfully so, and he could not figure out how or why this had happened. A flitting thought told him that Midas had something to do with it. 

He told the dream to Ron and Hermione as they made their way down to breakfast, and the three of them clustered together at the end of the table, heads bent close, trying to figure out a possible meaning to what had happened. Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table, to Malfoy, when he recounted Voldemort's interest in Malfoy's… what? Sight?

"Like Dumbledore," Ron mentioned, and Harry remembered Remus's letter. He'd mentioned that Dumbledore had taken an unexpected interest in Malfoy since the incident in sixth year. It seemed that Dumbledore wasn't the only one. What had Malfoy done again?

"Maybe we should ask someone about it," Hermione suggested. "I admit I wouldn't even know where to start pursuing this."

"Maybe we ought to ask Malfoy," Ron said, though he scrunched his face in distaste and shook his head.

"That'll go over well, I'm sure," retorted Harry.

Ron furrowed his brow, trying to cover the hurt Harry's scornful remark had caused. "I was only trying to help."

"Look, I'm sorry, it's just odd, you know… It felt…" Harry trailed off. It felt sort of like Harry had been in Malfoy's mind, in his memory. Harry only knew one… one person who could have entered Malfoy's memory and projected it thus. "Sorry. We've got to get going, anyway, or we'll be late to class. Come on, Hermione. We'll meet up with you for Herbology?" Ron nodded, and Harry and Hermione gathered up their bags and headed out to Transfigurations.

Hermione had taught Harry each of the spells needed to decipher their Animagus forms last night. The process reminded Harry a little of forming a Patronus, as the shape of his form was rather unclear at first, and gradually attained detail. As far as Harry could tell, he would morph into a… well, something big with four legs, and possibly with a tail.

"Good morning, everyone," McGonagall said at the start of class. "I hope you're all rested and rejuvenated. We've got another tough lesson ahead of us. To start, however, we've got two new students in class with us. Why don't we all introduce ourselves again?"

And so it went. Hufflepuff Susan Bones, and Ravenclaws Terry Boot and Lisa Turpin were the other members of the group, along with Harry, Hermione, Malfoy and Zabini. They totaled seven in all, and McGonagall stressed that they had a _larger_ than usual group. Most people learned Animagi transformation as an independent study because there would be one or two (at most) a year. She'd never taught so many people at once before, and as such, she expected they might have a little trouble at the start, since they wouldn't get as much attention as one could normally expect.

This didn't bother Harry at all. He was simply happy to get a chance to learn.

"So, as a refresher, which forms do we expect?" asked McGonagall as she arranged everyone into a large circle. Again they went around the circle, listing their Animagus forms. Harry was relieved when he found out that Hermione had the clearest idea of what she could turn into, with Malfoy close in second saying, "something big, and sleek, and winged; maybe a Pegasus, or something." Lisa Turpin has the vaguest idea, with, "…er… something… fat, or maybe fluffy, or furry…."

They practiced the spells a little more, trying to determine their forms more clearly, and by the end of the lesson, Harry was happy to get out of there. Harry followed him out, looking a little stressed as well, and they reluctantly headed down to Herbology. Harry wanted nothing more than lunch and a nap. Advanced Transfigurations was nothing to sneer at, that's for certain!

Herbology flew by like a breeze, and Harry soon found himself shoveling food in his mouth alongside Ron and Dean. He was hungrier than expected (probably from having expelled so much energy on Transfigurations earlier) and ate like an elephant. He did manage to catch a nap in History of Magic, and felt somewhat normal again when he entered Defense Against the Dark Arts – DADA, as Ron had lazily taken to calling it.

They had a new professor for this class, too, another woman named Morgaine Marshall. She was young – too young to have much in the way of experience, Harry thought – but she knew her subject extremely well. She treated the material with the sort of reverence that Harry might expect from Snape, and seemed as paranoid as Moody in terms of demanding constant vigilance, though there were never any outbursts. One thing was clear, though, she thought it her duty to make up for all the subject matter that they missed over the years, and crammed ridiculous amounts of work and homework into the term at the start.

Harry got so much homework, in fact, that he, Ron, and Hermione spent their evening in the library (before _and_ after dinner) trying to lessen the load. And by the end of the night, Harry was so exhausted that he went immediately to bed. He almost forgot about his dream from the night before. Almost, that is, for there was a thought in his mind to remind him….

_"P-Professor Trelawney…? How do you know if what you see is real? How do you know if it's the future, or… or a warning?"_

TBC

* * *

Feedback: requested and appreciated. 


	3. The Charmer

Surprise, surprise! This chapter screamed to be written. I surprised myself, at least. I hadn't expected to come around for about another month. Let's see if I can keep up the pace...

* * *

The Majestic

Laurence Ashton

Chapter Three:

_The Charmer

* * *

_

Harry woke feeling groggy and confused, feeling the tendrils of his dreams slipping away. He thought of Midas first, wondering if he'd had another such "dream" as last night's, but he couldn't remember anything… only the vaguest sense of calm. He didn't ponder this long, however, for he was running a little late this morning.

Hopping out of bed, Harry raced to get a shower and yanked on his uniform. He tied his tie crooked and only managed to tuck one tail of his shirt before rushing out to class. He had Divination first thing, and while with Trelawney that might have seemed like a burden, sitting with Malfoy and Zabini at the start of the day looked to be _torture_. Groaning in frustration, Harry scraped his half-hearted essay together and hurried to catch up with Ron and Hermione, who he found just leaving the common room for breakfast.

"Looking a little worse for the wear," Ron remarked as Harry skidded to a more reasonable pace and panted to catch his breath.

"More _dreams_, Harry?" asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno."

They took seats with Neville, Parvati and Lavender, who were also in Harry and Ron's Divinations class with Professor Augura. Parvati and Lavender were brooding unhappily and explaining their misfortune to poor, uninterested Neville. Harry gave him a sympathetic look as Neville tried unsuccessfully to give his oats his full attention.

"She won't give private readings!" Parvati complained.

"That's a shame," snorted Ron. "Great loss, that one."

"_I _think it at least shows…. Divinatory ethics," Hermione announced. Parvati and Lavender shot unimpressed looks her way and ignored the opinion.

Lavender sniffed and said, "How're we supposed to have any faith that she knows her craft like Professor Trelawney did if she won't _demonstrate_ it?" she snapped.

"Nobody really knows the craft," mumbled Neville. His eyes widened and he ducked his head in embarrassment when Lavender scowled at him. "I just mean… it's very delicate, that's all, looking at the future…. How do you know what you're actually seeing, you know? Unless it comes to pass – and what's the good of knowing the future if you can't change it, anyway…? That's all I mean."

"Who cares? It's an easy N.E.W.T!" said Ron, then changed the subject to the upcoming quidditch try-outs. Harry, Hermione, and Neville were all happy with the topic change, but Parvati and Lavender harrumphed and turned away, continuing their conversation in privacy. "How should we fill out the team, do you think?" Ron asked. "We've still got those two slots open. Dean is thinking of going for Chaser, actually, and the Creevey brothers want to compete for the beater position… but I'm not so certain about either of them. Have you seen them play?"

"I'll see them at try-outs, I guess. Is Dean any good?"

"Pretty good. Ginny's had him over the Burrow non-stop this summer, and they've played a lot. Don't get much chance to practice in London, she said, but I think they were just trying to trick Mum into shutting up about their spending too much time together."

"I don't think your Mum's that dense, Ron," said Hermione, glancing down the table to Ginny and Dean. They were sitting awfully close and laughing.

"I don't think so, either."

After breakfast, Harry and Ron trudged all the way up to the tower and clambered up the ladder into the Divinations classroom. They went to their assigned table and plopped heavily in their bean-bag chairs. Class began shortly after their arrival, and Professor Augura went around the room, collecting their essays and handing out pieces of parchment on which was written another Serpentine Prophecy.

She paused at their table, a strange, dark look coming into her eyes as she stared at Midas's head peeking out of Malfoy's collar.

"Is that…what I think it is?" she asked.

Malfoy nodded cautiously. "Yes," he said.

"Where did you get it?"

"It was a gift."

"A gift," repeated the professor.

Malfoy scowled, raising his chin in challenge. "Yes, a gift. Why?"

"Here's the prophecy," said Professor Augura sharply, slapping a piece of parchment in front of Malfoy. "Care to give us another analysis?"

Malfoy sneered. "I don't think it's fair if I get all the attention in this class, Professor."

Ron snorted, trying to hold in a laugh and failing miserably. Malfoy sneered at him, but Ron only laughed harder. Professor Augura ambled away and started the lesson.

"All right, everyone," she said, cheer now coming back into her voice. "Today we're going to start working on the Hogwarts specific prophecy that I told you about. It's called 'The Charmer' and is quite old at that. This one won't be nearly as easy, I'm afraid, but we'll be working in groups, and together I believe we can pull through. Let's take a moment to read it over once, shall we?" She read the prophecy aloud:

_In the iniquitous lair_

_Caught upon the devil's snare_

_Damned, is he, and foursquare_

_Born is the heir_

_To the night sky is he fated_

_Sight and soul, storm unabated_

_Heart devoured and demon sated_

_Placed upon the scale and weighted_

_Yet, to judge him is unwise_

_Not before the last demise_

_This we can at least surmise,_

_With the lion pacing in his eyes_

_Lords, the Fair, not yet forsaken_

_Nor the path of power unshaken_

_Emerald eyes, be not mistaken,_

_Beacons to, and does awaken_

_Speak shall he the majestic spell_

_Three chimes to make, the chilly knell_

_He sees beyond the flesh and shell_

_To argent kin and marked cell_

_This is he: a child of old_

_Immortal, fair, and wise, all told_

_Land and sky, their song behold_

_A little touch of gold_

"Well," said Professor, rubbing her hands together eagerly. "What do you think the prophet is talking about?"

Midas, having perked up when the prophecy was spoken, slithered out of Malfoy's sleeve and onto the table. He glittered magnificently in the ambient light, the gems coruscating out across the room. Rainbows reflected in Harry's glasses and danced in his eyes.

_Harry Potter_….

Sparing a glance at Malfoy, who was stock still and trembling in impotent fury, Harry bent forward and looked Midas in the eye. "_Hello, again, Midas_," he said. Professor Augura sidled over, watching through narrowed eyes, but she didn't say anything, and Harry wasn't going to give Midas the brush-off if he didn't have to. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Zabini suddenly reached out and yanked Midas viciously away.

_Unhand me, you careless brat!_ Midas snarled, baring his fangs in warning.

"ZABINI, YOU'RE HURTING HIM!" Harry yelled, face burning in rage as he wrested Zabini's hand away. Eyes bulging, Zabini reached for his wand, but Malfoy grabbed his wrist, stilling his movement.

"Don't," he said, letting Zabini go. Huffing, Zabini sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest, staring sulkily at the wall. Malfoy held his hand out to Midas. "Come," he said quietly. "Be still." Midas wound back to him obediently, slipping up his arm and wrapping around his neck to rest. Malfoy touched his head, and Midas coiled tighter as he drifted to sleep.

"Let's continue," said Professor Augura. She didn't seem bothered that he class had been interrupted. "How about I give you a clue about the prophecy, then? It's about a Majestic."

Harry raised his hand. Smiling brightly, the professor called on him. "What's a Majestic?" he asked.

"To start, I should probably ask if you know who the Kin are." Harry shook his head. He wasn't the only one in the room who didn't know, either. Many people were looking at the Professor in curiosity. Professor Augura looked fairly surprised at that, then laughed. "Well! Let's see… The Kin are the ancient races, the Keepers of the Erinyen. There were three ancient races in all: Mage, Sage, and Elf, and they presided over others of their kindred. Mages, our ancestors, spoke for men; sages spoke for magical kindred – phoenixes, dragons, goblins… all of the fair magical beings. And the Elves spoke for all of the Fey: High Elves and Drow, Common (or House) Elves, Fairy, Pixie and Sprite. It was the position of the ancient races to maintain peace and order, to serve and protect magic itself. They set up a Triumvirate to judge abuse of magic, and, in the end, they even established an avatar for magic, gave magic a voice and flesh, and….

"This caused more trouble than it sponsored peace. Magic chose a High Elf as its avatar, and the other races were envious and believed that they Fey had unfair influence in the Triumvirate. The Council broke, and the avatar fell silent. Yet, these races still had a duty to fulfill. In the end, they decided to create the Erinyen, the _weight of the world_, mixing their powers into this singular burden to protect magic. Upon their deaths, the burden would fall to their heirs, the Majis. But over the ages, many wars were fought, and the Erinyen changed hands quite often. It came as no surprise to any when it was lost. The Majis were no longer called upon to serve. They were useless without the Erinyen…. Merlin was the first Majestic awakened since it was lost. Some say that he found it once more, but there is no true evidence of that…. Your Headmaster is a Majestic, the Majestic Mage, truth to tell. It is said that he would rear another Majestic at Hogwarts, _the Charmer_, the snake-speaker."

Gasping, someone shouted, "Harry! It's Harry, isn't it?" A clamor rose in the room as the other students rejoined, crying out reasons why the prophecy _really was_ about him. Cringing, Harry slunk down in his seat, staring at the gleam of the table wood, blushing full on to his ears.

Professor Augura looked at Harry with twinkling eyes and smiled. "What do you think, Harry?"

_I think you're just as bad as batty old Trelawney, if not bloody **worse**, _he thought viciously, but shrugged.

"I think its rubbish," muttered Malfoy, sneering hatefully across the table at Harry.

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy, you're just jealous!" snapped Ron.

"Jealous?" Malfoy retorted. "Of _what_? A Muggle-hugging half-blood peasant? Don't go projecting _your_ feelings onto me, Weasel. Even with your sterling lineage, you were never worthy of _trash_ like him!"

"Mr. Malfoy!" The professor sounded scandalized. "That was unnecessarily harsh. Apologize this instant."

Upon hearing the command, Ron's red-faced rage melted into smarmy smugness, and he leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. "Yeah, Malfoy," he cajoled. "Apologize." Malfoy clenched his jaw.

"Sorry, Weasley, if the truth hurts."

"Don't be a prat, Malfoy," Harry said as Ron opened his mouth to return the insult. Then Professor Augura loudly called for everyone's attention and continued the lesson. Most people were eager to give analyses of the prophecy then, except Malfoy (who pretended not to hear Professor Augura when she asked about it) and his Slytherin cronies. Elation surged through him as the class ended, and he took the stairs two at a time. Even History of Magic looked like a relief. Harry certainly wasn't looking forward to the assignment for Divination, though. It was another prophecy analysis… about _him_, again.

* * *

After classes that day, Harry decided to take a nap before anchoring himself to his textbooks. Seventh year was ridiculously hard, even before N.E.W.T.s started looming like ominous storm-clouds on the horizons of his thoughts. Harry wasn't certain how Hermione was managing. She'd taken more courses that he (as usual), and some were harder at that – Arithmancy, Ancient Runes. Though, if Divinations continued to be a pain in Harry's neck, he'd probably wish to be with her in Arithmancy before the end. 

Pulling the curtains on his bed closed, Harry stripped down to his boxers and laid back, arms folded behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling as his eyelids grew heavy and he drifted to sleep.

He woke again to a jabbing pain on his ear. Sweeping his arm up to rub it, his hand smacked against something hard and soft at once; it squawked in indignation. Cracking his eyes opened to look beside him, Harry saw a dazed-looking barn owl.

"Sorry," he muttered as the owl hopped closer and stuck its leg out. A rolled up piece of parchment was tied to its leg. The bird flew off, out the opened window, as soon as it was free of its burden.

Harry turned to his note. It simply said: _East tower, half nine._ No signature accompanied the request.

A quick look to his watch let him know that it was already nine. He'd have to hurry if he wanted to get there early and hide out under his invisibility cloak. He wanted to know who sent the request before joining them, unless it was a trick of the sort Malfoy had been known to pull.

He dressed swiftly in jeans and a jumper and grabbed a back pack that he could put his cloak in if he decided to meet up with this person.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Ron asked when Harry dashed down the stairs and through the common room. He was sitting by the window, trying to teach Hermione a few strategies in Chess and failing miserably.

"East tower. I shouldn't be long. We can work on that stupid History assignment when I get back."

"Sure," Ron said, then glanced at the board. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Hermione! Have you forgotten how to move the pieces already?"

As Harry closed the door behind him, he heard Hermione's guilty denial.

Harry arrived at the East tower ten minutes before the appointed time. He was cutting it a little close, but the roof was deserted. Pleased with this, he shouldered his invisibility cloak and stepped behind a gargoyle. Four minutes later, the door opened again, and two pair of footsteps sounded. Harry shifted so that he could glance around the statue. Malfoy and Zabini were there.

"Start setting up. I'll make sure we're alone," suggested Zabini. Malfoy nodded, slinging a bag from his shoulder and starting to rifle through. Zabini headed Harry's way.

Holding in his breath so as not to make a sound, Harry made himself as small as possible, slipping out of Zabini's path. The Slytherin passed him by, checking between the gargoyles and down the darkened path. He scuttled back to Malfoy's side silently, slipping up behind him and sliding his arms around Malfoy's waist. Harry's jaw dropped at seeing this – at the queer intimacy of the act, and Malfoy's even stranger response (leaning into the touch, for Merlin's sake!) Were they…?

The unasked question was swiftly answered. Zabini pressed a kiss to Malfoy's jaw, and Malfoy turned, winding his arms around Zabini's neck. They were long and lean together, flushed, creating a dark seam. They didn't kiss again, but they could have, so close they were, noses mere centimeters apart. Harry could imagine their eyes crossing at they stared so wide-eyed at each other. Zabini looked smug, as always, but Malfoy gave him a slight, half-smile, a look so soft, so warm, so far from anything that Harry would have expected of him….

Midas slithered up between them, creeping out of Draco's collar, and coiled around Zabini's neck thrice. Laughing, Malfoy kissed Zabini's nose, then broke through the embrace. He'd already set a plush navy blanket on the floor and piled uncut crystals and two gleaming silver torques in the center.

"We don't have all night, Blaise."

"Are you certain?"

"_Yes_," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. "I've got to patrol, remember. Anyway, you have homework."

Zabini flopped on the cover and stretched out. He scrunched his nose as he watched Malfoy arranging the crystals in three concentric circles with the torques in the center. "Do it for me."

"You wish," Malfoy said, but not scornfully. "Besides, how do you think you'll pass your N.E.W.T.s if you don't study? They're coming up, soon, you know."

"Draco, I've got all _year_ to study!"

"Exactly! You'll have time to make color-coded charts, and revise them, and spell logs, then color-code them, then revise them, and—"

"I get the picture, I assure you." Harry cringed, thinking of how much Malfoy actually had in common with Hermione. "Besides, I thought I could share yours."

Malfoy hesitated, looking at Zabini through his fringe, then he smirked. "And what do I get out of that?"

"You get a reward for being such a good boyfriend."

"What sort of reward?"

"I'll show you." Harry had to bite his fist to keep from gagging. Oh, Merlin! The images that conjured…. Harry's inner eye was tearing up fitfully.

"Hurry up. I have homework, too," Malfoy replied. Sighing heavily, Zabini stood and went to stand in the center circle with Malfoy. Malfoy plucked up the torques and handed one to Zabini. "Put that on." Zabini secured the armband around his upper arm as Malfoy did the same with the other.

_There is a cry that rings in my ear, a shrill summons to which I adhere; and by the beacon, clear and sincere, I balk from silence and persevere_.

Malfoy looked at Midas sharply as the snake lifted its head. "What?" he said. A strange, eager light came into Zabini's eyes and he turned to Midas.

"What's he saying?"

"Er, nothing important," Malfoy replied, taking a step back. "He just wants us to hurry up, is all."

_You lie. I do not want this…. Help me. Please._

"What's he saying now?" asked Zabini, stroking Midas's back fondly.

"He…" Bewildered, Malfoy looked between Midas and Zabini, and flushed, as he glanced down at the crystals. When he looked back up again, his eyes were glazed, and he reached out. Midas slipped from Zabini's neck and curled around Malfoy's arm and neck. His gems glinted in the moonlight. "Sorry, Blaise. Midas says that he doesn't want you as a Second."

TBC

* * *

Sorry I left you with a cliffy in this chapter. I feel utterly terrible and will try to rectify this sometime soon. Chapter four should have a more reader friendly end. Thanks for reading, please review! 


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